Jun 13, 2014
Jun 4, 2014
I have been that child; the one who was too afraid to speak about the pain and hardship I was enduring personally because I was told that my family would be harmed if I told. My mother had to force me to open my mouth and tell my truth. When I finally did, relief rushed over me, the tears fell, and help came.
There are millions of children in this world whose youthful spirits have been broken by the effects of hunger, physical abuse, mental abuse, homelessness, financial hardships, bullying, absentee parents, divorce, acts of violence and war, and death.
Their eyes water with fear.
With closed mouths, they scream out to you.
HELP. PLEASE HELP.
But there is no sound.
Crying out to you, reaching for your hand.
Though their hands are clasped and arms crossed.
Are you okay? What can I do? Do you need help?
I can hear their hearts beating.
Brother. Sister. A small glance.
How do they know?
The pinch, the kick, under the table.
Don't say anything or they'll take us away.
They'll separate us. We'll never see each other again.
Don't say anything.
May 30, 2014
I'm not so sure about television now. It just seems like it produces this entitlement to fame and riches spirit in people. I don't know about you but I end up more depressed after watching most times. If I watch a show nowadays, I try to find that show that is the most fictitious and imaginative, or at least has good writing and character development. I miss the days of the family sitcom where they sometimes deal with real life issues and the live studio audience laughs or says "Awwww", then claps sympathetically because they relate to the character, (or because a producer told them to do so).
Anyway, I miss TV. Real TV.
May 21, 2014
Loose me from this desk of despair!
I just need to getaway from here
From this place of stress and work
I want to feel the sun on my face
Freedom from florescent lighting
The earth beneath my feet
Liberation from laminate floors
The wind blowing through my kinky hair
I want to feel the peace of relaxation
And breath. And breath. And breath.
Breathing without thinking, without interruption.
I need to be far away from direction.
Doing what I want to do.
Feeling lost in leisure
The pleasure of not clocking in
May 20, 2014
Sometimes I forget I'm over 30 and get frustrated when I receive invites to 30 & over events. Like, "I can't go to that, I'm only..." and then reality hits me. "Oh yeah, that's right." I can remember being in my teens just waiting in anticipation to turn 16. Like it would be the age of a new Renaissance for all the people of the world. When my birthday came, I expected people to be so excited for me. Oh I dreamed the night before of a surprise party with family and friends. Practiced my surprise expression throughout the day, believing in my heart that at the age of 16, I was special enough to be thought of in such a way. But no party, no surprise. I remember having to tell people it was my birthday. Thinking on it now, it took everything inside of me not to cry in that moment. I remember going to Walmart of all places and purchasing a Sweet 16 charm for myself, telling myself it was from my dad.
I think my cousin was the only one to give me a birthday card and it made me feel important, like I had reached a turning point. Hey I was old enough to get a birthday card! Awesome! Everyone wants to feel like they are loved and thought about at some point in their life. Every milestone age then after 18, 21, 25, then turning 30, I kept up this high excitement for my birthday, only to be let down. I went as far as telling people I wanted a surprise birthday party. I basically put the whole theme down on paper to be executed, but surprise, surprise: no party. And it's my fault for allowing that to be a personal disappointment. I have never been at the forefront of the people I love most minds as a person who needs to be helped, encouraged, or celebrated. I've always had to give of myself more than what others give to me. I never was picked first for anything.
I'm more likely an above average thinker with a lower middle class attitude about life. I have such grandiose ideas about my future and how I can make the world a more tolerable place, but then I have my logical, more skeptical mind that puts my technicolor dreams into black and white. This may sound like a pity party... and it is! Who else is going to throw a party for me? No one.
I whine a little. I get it out of my system and go on to live another 24 hours.
This year as my birthday draws nearer, I can't lie, I'm excited but I'm not expecting anything or anyone to do anything for me either. It only takes one person to blow out the candles.
May 18, 2014
Today I'm at the store (Old Time Pottery if you must know) and they've got some classic MJ playing over the speakers. So I'm jamming, singing to myself, about to look in a bin of pillows. That's when I hear this guy say to me, "Uh, uh. No singing in Old Time Pottery... not without me talking to you first." I had to turn around and see who this bold man was (dear Lord let him be fine). So smiling and giggling at me was this tall, green eyed, handsome... caucasian man... possibly in his 40s. Needless to say... I was disappointed. Flattered, but still disappointed. We had a bit of convo, a little flirting but that's about it. He just wasn't my type.
Though it did get me thinking. I'm all for dating outside of your culture and ethnicity. I believe in the Melting Pot of Love. But I had to admit to myself today that I have quite a bit of fear & apprehension when I am approached by men who are of different ethnicities or backgrounds than I am. This happens more often due to working in the medical field and that I now understand or I have been told that I have a so-called "international look". Which bothered me at first, but I've come to accept it. So I look like I'm from Africa or India... what now? I'm still an Black American woman who is mainly attracted to Black American men. It's my Achilles Heel.
Now I've dated a few guys who were not the same skin color as I and I still have those voices tickling my ears reminding me of Black Power, Black Love, and the Black Family. I even have the sting of guilt that sometimes rises up in my belly. Like I am betraying my people by going out with a white man. I really hate that feeling. I even hate it more when Black men make you feel guilty for dating someone of a different ethnicity. Seriously?! Wasn't none of yall beating down my door, calling my phone, or texting me to take me out. Oh you may have attempted to see if we could get down sexually, but you really weren't trying to see who I was as a human being.
It doesn't help the fact that I am overweight either. No matter how friendly or amazingly intelligent that I am, men (no matter the color) are visual creatures. My curves... are in all the wrong places. They either like what they see or they don't. So I believe now that's two strikes against me: Black and Fat. And being that I am a Christian, it narrows the field down even more. There aren't too many churches harboring single, saved, and satisfied Black men in hoards. Neither are they flocking to the pews. It's like the NFL draft nowadays for a single black woman out here. You better hope you get called up to play... otherwise you'll be hanging around like a free agent.
That's what I am right now. A free agent. I'm trying to get myself together (lose some weight, get outta debt, etc) so I can look good for some man out here to pick me so we can negotiate a deal, sign a contract, win a Super Bowl, and retire in luxury (or open a few franchise McDonalds along the way). Ya feel me? So while I'm out here ripping and running I do catch a few prospective teams eyes, but it ain't the teams I TRULY want to play with! And today I realized, if I'm going to get the ring, I'm going to have to get on the field sometime. If it's going to be that I have to be with someone I wouldn't expect to be with, I can accept that. I can fully, truly accept that.
All I want is someone who loves and respects me completely. A man whom I can look into their eyes and know that they know who I am entirely. Someone that I can be reassured that they are trustworthy and strong.
So maybe I should have given that guy my number or smiled a bit more. I don't know. THAT guy wasn't my type. Maybe the next one will be.